Red on White
by December Writing Dragon
Summary: Alfred and Ivan would do anything for each other. When what was supposed to be a pleasant day takes a drastic turn, Ivan makes a rash decision that threatens to tear them apart in the worst way. RusAme Human AU. Three-shot. Warning for blood.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

Snowflakes continued to fall thick and fast, as it had done all day. School had been let out early as a result, and Alfred and Ivan were looking forward to a free afternoon spent at Alfred's. The bubbly American had just bought a new video game he had been dying to try out, and it thankfully even had a co-op mode. He was unable to suppress a shiver as the cold bit at every inch of his exposed skin. Beside him, Ivan lope onward with an easy grace, completely unaffected.

"Put a coat on, man, I'm freezing just looking at you," Alfred said through chattering teeth.

Ivan cast him an amused sideways glance before dropping his gaze back down to the sidewalk; thin sheets of ice already coated the streets, and one misstep could mean a twisted ankle or worse.

"But Fedya, you are wearing mine," Ivan reminded him.

Alfred's frozen cheeks suddenly felt a little warm as he remembered Ivan taking pity on his poor temperature tolerance, draping his massive coat across his shoulders, and effectively granting him quite a bit of relief. "Yeah, well…" he trailed off weakly. "Your sacrifice is appreciated."

"I am glad."

"Hey, tonight's spaghetti night- wanna call your folks and see if you can stay for dinner?" Alfred suggested, brightening at the idea of more time with his friend…boyfriend.

Ivan hesitated. "If I would not be intruding…" Strangely, his own cheeks had developed some color of their own, completely unrelated to the biting wind.

"Dude, I'm pretty sure mom's waiting for you to move in. Wouldn't be surprised if she asked your parents and sis-"

It happened very fast.

A hair-raising sound of screeching tires pierced the wintry air. The two teens looked up, only for their vision to be obscured by metal as a car came swerving right for them. A hard shove sent Alfred sprawling to the side, crashing hard onto the icy pavement, his vision now nothing but white. Immediately after, there was a horrible fleshy _thump_ , followed by a metallic _clang_ as the car was forced to a hault.

Palms stinging from where he'd thrown them out to avoid slamming his face into the pavement, Alfred turned shakily to look at the wreckage and felt his stomach drop. Curled up just out from under the hood of the car lay Ivan, hands clamped over his torso and face twisted in pain as tremors racked through his entire body. And there was red. Already so much red, too much red, seeping between his fingers and onto the snow below.

"IVAN!" Alfred screamed as he threw himself over. A choked gasp of pain escaped Ivan's lips as he withdrew his bloodied hands. With more tenderness and care than Alfred knew he possessed, he snaked his arms under Ivan's shaking figure and cradled him close, wincing at the broken sob he tried so hard to hold in.

"Vanya- hey, Vanya, it's okay, it'll be alright. I know it hurts, I know, it'll be over soon, the pain will get better- help is coming!" Unwilling to relinquish his hold on his boyfriend, but knowing it needed to be done, he fumbled one-handed in his pocket for his phone. His fingers were shaking so badly it took three attempts before he was able to punch in the right number, by which time one of Ivan's hands was gripping his arm in a vice like grip.

"H-hello, please, help! My friend's been hit! He's bleeding! A car hit a patch of ice, he pushed me out of the way, please you have to hurry!" Tears ran down his face as he relayed their address. The responder assured him help would arrive soon, and asked if he wanted her to remain on the phone. He declined. He needed to focus on Ivan.

Tossing the phone unceremoniously aside, Alfred looked down and felt his entire being turn to ice. Ivan's face was now chalk white; the blood soaking through his clothes looked overbright amidst such a pale landscape of broken flesh and snow. Automatically, Alfred's hand came to rest at Ivan's cheek, thumb rubbing gentle circles just below a watery purple eye.

"Vanya- look at me, please. Okay? Just look at me. It's going to be okay. Just hold on a bit longer, that's all you have to do. Just a bit longer, then you can rest- everyone else will handle it, and you'll be okay. Got it? Come on, no, don't close your eyes- just keep looking at me!" He was babbling, mind working overtime yet not piecing anything together logically. All that mattered was Ivan staying awake, Ivan staying…here.

"Mmm…Fed…ya," Ivan murmured weakly, cringing as a spasm of pain shot through him. "Can I still stay for dinner?"

Alfred tried for a laugh, though it came out as a strangled sob. "Yeah, but only if you stay awake, otherwise you can feed yourself."

"Hah… rude host," Ivan muttered, barely over a whisper. Sirens could be heard in the distance, and he willed his body to hold on just a bit longer- one more second, another, just one more. He felt so cold…

"Vanya," Alfred whispered, their faces inches apart as he traced gentle paths against Ivan's scalp. His Vanya so loved when Alfred ran his fingers through his hair… "They're here, Vanya. They're here just for you. You'll be okay now…"

How quickly things could change…such pleasant days turn sour. Alfred felt the tears freeze on his face as he held his best friend bleeding out onto the snow…

END OF PART 1

Based on a tumblr prompt "it'll be okay, just look at me!" I plan on adding two more parts to this, so expect more!


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

 _I should call our parents_ , Alfred thought dully as the sirens drew nearer. He would…he would…but for now the only thing that mattered was holding on to Ivan, for surely if he held on tight enough, Ivan would remain tethered to this world, tethered to life, tethered to Alfred. Ivan's fist was clenching and unclenching in the fabric of Alfred's jacket as horrible sobs, so soft yet so pained, escaped his lips.

Just as the flashing lights of the ambulance became visible, Alfred saw the driver stir, shaking the dizziness from his head, his gaze locking with Alfred's.

"You bastard!" Alfred yelled over the sound of the ambulance doors flying open and paramedics swooping in around them. "You sick bastard- you killed him! You killed him! What the hell is wrong with you?"

The driver sent Alfred a look of pure venom. Alfred knew an instant of astonishment before his attention was brought back to Ivan.

The paramedics attending to him were quick and precise yet gentle and cautious. The few minutes it took them to load Ivan into the ambulance felt like a lifetime; the drive to the hospital was even worse. Every second spent on the road felt like just one more moment where Ivan could slip away. Alfred's entire being turned to ice when Ivan's grip slackened around his fingers, the heart monitor providing the only proof that he still lived, still fought.

"I'll call his parents," he said at the hospital as they wheeled his unconscious boyfriend away. His voice sounded dead even to his own ears. A second was spent wiping the dirt and wet snow from his phone, remnants from when he cast it aside in his panic. The screen told him he had a missed call from his mother. He dialed her number.

"Alfie? Hey! I just got off the phone with Mrs. Braginsky. She wanted to know that you two got over here. I told her you'd be here soon- is that right?"

"No," Alfred choked out before doubling over, shoulders quivering.

"Alfie? What do you mean? What happened?" His mother's voice was more tense now.

"There- there was an accident! A car- we were on the sidewalk, one second there was nothing and…he pushed me, he pushed me out of the way, and now he's hit…"

A heartbeat of silence, and then "I'm calling his parents- we'll be over there right away."

Alfred nodded, though she could not see him. When the call ended he collapsed into a seat, drew his legs up, and burrowed his face in his knees. His breathing was painful, rattling. The palms of his hands were badly scraped from his fall. Alfred couldn't imagine what Ivan was feeling, didn't _want_ to imagine. But it was real. Ivan had pushed him out of the way, and this was the price he was paying for saving Alfred.

Saving.

He had saved him.

Guilt welled up inside him with such sudden intensity Alfred felt certain he would be smothered by it, consumed from the inside by the overwhelming dread and regret that made up every fiber of his being. He wanted Ivan. He wanted to see him and hold him and be held, wanted to hear his voice and feel those warm lips on his and to run his fingers through those thick platinum locks.

But now all he could do was pray that he would live through the rest of the day.

Time did strange things throughout his wait. One moment he was so lost in his own thoughts the minutes flew by. Immediately after, every second would seem to take an eternity. A commotion at the entrance drove him from his stupor as six people rushed in; his own parents trailed fast behind Mr. and Mrs. Braginsky and their two daughters Irunya and Natalya. Alfred soon found himself surrounded by anxious faces and heavy accents.

"Alfred, what happened? Where is Vanya?" Mr. Braginsky demanded, pale blue eyes fearful. It was clear where Ivan got his height from, though where his thick build came from was a mystery to Alfred, as Ivan's father was rather thin. Mrs. Braginsky's round motherly face bore deep worry lines as she and Alfred's parents looked him over.

"You are hurt," she whispered shakily, inspecting his hands.

"Is he going to be alright?" Irunya asked softly, she and Natalya looking close to tears. The younger of the two was tugging on her sister's arm, looking incessantly at the door leading to where the patients were kept. Upon closer inspection, Alfred could see Irunya shaking from head to toe.

"The doctors haven't said anything yet," Alfred said. "Which is probably good. They'd have said if- if something happened." A part of him needed this small reassurance as much as they did.

"And you were with him? That car could've gotten you too," Mr. Jones said, looking wane.

"It didn't. He…Ivan pushed me out of the way."

And he launched into an explanation of what happened, detailing the slippery roads, how they themselves took slow steps to avoid slipping, the thick snow fall, the screech of tires, that horrible impact…

When he reached the part about the hateful look the driver sent him, Mrs. Jones snapped "Why the hell should he be mad at you? What, he was a bad driver, and how dare you get hurt so he's going to have to pay? He could've killed either of you. He doesn't belong on the roads. I want to see him." She and Alfred were almost identical in looks and personality. At this point, Alfred wished he could channel some of her fire to get him through this, but the aftermath of the crash seemed to have drained him more than he thought.

Mr. Braginsky's face blanched. He pointed a quivering finger at the coat Alfred forgot he was holding. The coat Ivan had draped across his shoulders. The same one Alfred had used to cover Ivan while he laid shivering and bleeding in the snow.

"Is that…?" he began hoarsely.

"Oh my god, my son," Mrs. Braginsky gasped, scooping it up and staring in horror at the large red stain. "Vanya," she moaned before her husband drew her against his chest, holding her close. It was all Alfred could do not to start shedding tears again. Together, the two families waited, the silence broken only by the occasional sniffle and the gentle tapping of Mr. Jones's shoes as he paced the length of the room.

When a nurse approached them at last, Alfred did not quite register what was happening. Ivan's parents and sisters crowded around to hear the verdict; they had him all patched up, he should be fine, just needed to stay overnight and possibly into the next day, and he should be waking soon if they wanted to see him.

After exchanging words of relief and hasty embraces, the large party trailed behind the nurse to the room Ivan was staying in. Alfred and his parents lingered in the doorway while Ivan's family rushed in. The voices that floated through were hushed; he must have still been asleep, or at least very drowsy. Alfred was not sure how he would stomach the sight of Ivan on a stiff hospital bed, his body broken almost beyond repair. And…and…

"He saved me," Alfred murmured. His parents glanced at him. "He _pushed me_ out of the way. He could've died, he almost did."

Mrs. Braginsky's face poked through the doorway. "He is waking up- he wants to see you, Alfred."

And so, with ice flooding his veins, Alfred tried to decide what on earth he was to say to his loved one who saved his life.

END OF PART 2

Notes: Himaruya once discussed Ukraine's human name as Irunya Chernenko. I do often use Yekaterina if her name comes up, but I also want to try using the name he proposed, hence she is called Irunya in this.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

Now the slow rhythmic beeping of a heart monitor intermingled with the sniffles and relieved sighs of Ivan's visitors. And in the midst of it all lay Ivan, pale as the stiff sheets of his bed and the sterile walls of his room. It made the few bruises not concealed by his gown all the more lurid. Even faced with how painful those injuries looked- in fact, especially because of how painful they looked- it gave Alfred a guilty sense of relief that he did not see where Ivan had been struck by the car. Already most of his efforts were going towards keeping his features from crumpling into despair and worry. Perhaps because he also needed to put energy into staying upright, moving one foot then the other, but something of Alfred's distress must have been showing for how everyone looked at him almost mournfully.

"Hey," he breathed, voice but a whisper.

"Fedya." The two syllables seemed to take some effort, and even then Ivan's voice seemed slightly slurred.

"They said he is on a lot of pain medication," Irunya murmured in explanation. Her round face was streaked with tears, but perhaps she had shed all she needed to, for there was a new hardness in her voice, and the arm wrapped around Natalya was quite steady.

Without telling them to, Alfred's legs carried him to a free chair beside the bed, Ivan's head unmoving but his eyes following his progress the entire time. So focused was Alfred on his face, he nearly missed Ivan's hand turning over on the bed, palm up in an invitation. He did not even need to think about it; Alfred laced their fingers together, heart full of grief for how cold Ivan felt.

"You are okay?" Ivan asked quietly, thumb rubbing a gentle circle into Alfred's skin.

Alfred nodded mutely, giving a gentle, so very gentle, squeeze. "Yeah…but I'm not the one who got hit by a car."

"But you almost did," Ivan protested in a soft voice, fingers clenching and unclenching in Alfred's hold. Some of Alfred's warmth seemed to be seeping into him, and Alfred could only hope he could give all his warmth to Ivan. "You almost got hit."

"But I _didn't_ ," Alfred shot back, louder now.

"Alfred," Mrs. Braginsky said from behind. "You were almost hurt…but through all that your quick thinking got Vanya help." Ivan nodded.

Alfred shook his head, looking from Ivan to the crowd around them looking at him like he was the lone survivor of some fierce battle.

Like he was some kind of hero.

Alfred shook his head once more, running his free hand through his hair. "Stop," he pleaded, turning back to Ivan. "This is about you," he reminded Ivan, reminded everyone. All he did was call for help. Ivan threw himself the glowing eyes of death and into its metal mouth for Alfred. "Some lunatic on the road nearly got you."

"And that's something we need to talk to you all about."

Everyone wheeled round as a short, stately looking man spoke up from the doorway. His sandy blond hair was set in a messy crop atop stern but compassionate green eyes and thick furrowed eyebrows. "Detective Kirkland," he introduced, producing his badge. "And we are going to need statements from everyone against that man for the hate crime he committed."

Arthur Kirkland explained to the stunned room the driver's history of inflammatory and incendiary comments and actions against anyone he deemed "other." By his own knowledge of the rule of law's loopholes- real or otherwise- he had evaded longterm punishment, but had been on law enforcement's radar for ages. The man, Kirkland explained, was suspected of targeting people, watching their schedules, and lashing out, verbally or physically. After interrogating him in his hospital room, through the suspect's vehement denial of any wrongdoing, Agent Kirkland and his team deduced that he had likely seen Ivan and Alfred holding hands and, in a bigoted rage, had made to hit them. Some of Kirkland's team felt all they could accuse him of was trying to scare the two, without the intent of an actual collision; others still felt all they could say now was that he was going to exit his vehicle and shout them down. Of all the three scenarios, Agent Kirkland had no tolerance for any, and simply wanted him locked up for good. Hence, he needed as many statements as he could get.

When he finished, the room roared with everyone's stunned silence. Ivan and Alfred's grips on each other's hands were nearly crushing, yet somehow so very comforting in how grounded they were.

And as he finished, Arthur's team could be seen escorting the driver out in cuffs.

There was barely any time to react as Ivan's father rose and charged for the door. His wife, both Alfred's parents, and Irunya were around him in an instant, holding him back, trying to calm him. Natalya and Alfred remained sitting beside Alfred, not considering helping for even an instant. Natalya's eyes read as much hatred for the man as Alfred was feeling.

"Calm down, man," Mr. Jones hissed as Agent Kirkland stood stoically in the doorway still, even in the face of Mr. Braginsky's towering determination. "You heard Agent Kirkland- he'll be charged with a hate crime. And against students. There will be no safety for him." Alfred's father did not like finding comfort in the pain of others. But he did not like people committing such violations against humanity that they would attack students. Attack anyone.

Mr. Braginsky still seethed as the perpetrator was lead down the hall; it took everyone's combined efforts to hold him back, as vicious threats were yelled at him. Mrs. Braginsky gasped, daring not translate, fortunate Kirkland could not understand what was said. Still, Natalya and Alfred sat stony faced beside Ivan.

It took several more long minutes of consoling and reassuring before Ivan's father calmed down, and through it all Alfred clasped Ivan's hand, ready to never let go. He stared into Ivan's tired eyes, his own blue eyes full of meaning. He needed Ivan to understand the irrevocable gratitude he felt, the debt he owed, the devotion he had for this man before him.

He squeezed his hand.

Ivan squeezed back.

It would take time. Only time could bring healing. For Ivan. For Alfred. But with the time they were granted, they also had the final piece to putting themselves back together and healing themselves and their world.

Each other.

THE END

I had this planned literally years ago, since getting that prompt, and with this I can happily say: this is the first multichapter fiction I have completed! Whoo! Milestone! Thank you for reading! Like I said, this was a plot bunny I had since getting the line prompt on tumblr, and I'm glad to finally finish it and find some closure with myself- and I hope you do too. Love you all dearly.


End file.
